


El Chantaje

by 13thDoctor



Category: Fast and the Furious Series, The Fate of the Furious (2017)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon Rewrite, Canon-Typical Violence, Established Relationship, Fate of the Furious rewrite, M/M, Married Couple, Movie Spoilers, Not Canon Compliant
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-27
Updated: 2017-07-13
Packaged: 2018-10-23 17:07:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,497
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10723584
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/13thDoctor/pseuds/13thDoctor
Summary: With Brian and Dom away on their honeymoon, Mia happily married back home, and the rest of the team living out normal lives, everything seems to have had a happy ending. But when a mysterious stranger turns Dominic Toretto rogue, his husband must call them back together and enlist the help of an international criminal to catch the one threat they never saw coming: one of their own.





	1. Uno

**Author's Note:**

> This is essentially Fate with Brian in Letty's place, though Letty is still the one who suffered from memory loss. Expect very little canon divergence except for the Brian/Dom relationship. Everything will be explained throughout the fic! Comments and kudos are always appreciated, and enjoy!

_Yo no te miento_

_Todavía te espero_

_Sabes bien que te quiero_

_No sé vivir sin ti_

 

Dominic Toretto is flying out of a burning car, flames reaching high into the sky just like his prayers as he hits the pavement and rolls. He presses his face to the road--it smells like a fresh race, gasoline and sweat, and he inhales that like it’s air and he’s drowning--as heat rolls overhead. Then he watches that wreck as it soars into the waves.

The kids surround him first. Dom knows almost all of them by name. Gina is the first to run into his outstretched arms, so he lifts her effortlessly and gives her his widest grin. She giggles as she sits on his arm, so he holds her higher like she’s the winner and he’s just the podium. Around her, children and adults alike cheer and chant his name, but his eyes seek only one face in the rambunctious crowd.

Blonde hair, tan skin, eyes blue as the Straits of Florida themselves--he should know, since he just put his cousin’s car in that water. Brian O’Conner is certainly a welcome sight after riding a homemade bomb down the Cuban mile. He’s smiling that Arizona smile, all white teeth and crinkles in the corners of his eyes. He’s smiling like Dom is his whole world. There’s anger there, too, in flared nostrils and a snarl like he’s raring to beat the bastard who threw a motorcycle at Dom, but it’s simmering down with each passing moment.

Faces blur and voices fade out as Dom jogs his way back to his husband, and _God_ , he loves getting that word stuck in his head. Dom’s muscles ache and his skin is just a little too hot to be from only the sun, but it doesn’t matter when he gets back to Brian and pulls him into his chest.

“¿ _Te gusta_?”

“Sure,” Brian replies, but it’s more of a laugh than a word. Dom feels the vibrations in his heart. He holds Brian close, amazed by how well they fit together. With Brian in his arms, everything else has disappeared--every sight, every sound. But they come back when Brian’s big mouth opens. “You were a little close there, huh?” It’s mostly because he’s pissed at Raldo’s cheating.

So Dom scoffs affectionately and pushes him away. “Like you coulda done better?” It does the trick; Brian’s eyes sparkle at the challenge and his anger is forgotten.

Holding his hands up innocently, he steps back and bites his lip. “I mean, _I_ didn’t say that…”

The crowd laughs. Brian takes his place at Dom’s side to give them more space to congratulate him. And of course Dom lets the guy keep his car, and _of course_ it was about respect. The way people are staring at him, Brian can see a hero in their eyes. Brian wants to tell them stories of that hero until he can’t talk anymore, but then Dom gives him that _look_.

It’s that after-a-race look. It’s the adrenaline pumping, heart pounding, gears turning look that means just because the car is wrecked doesn’t mean _Dom’s_ engine isn’t still running. “Wanna get out of here?” Brian whispers into Dom’s ear. He doesn’t have to ask twice before they’re handing away the Impala’s keys and doing their best to stroll away casually.

“It was too slow for a Toretto anyway!” Dom yells. Brian certainly isn’t going to be.

The door to their apartment closes and Dom’s shirt buttons are already open. Brian’s let his hair grow out a little on their honeymoon, and Dom doesn’t miss the chance to grab a little and pull so his lips can get to that sun-soaked neck. Brian’s breath hitches. “Bed’s over there, Dom,” he reminds him, because at the rate Dom’s stripping him down, they really aren’t going to make it there. “I don’t think the floor’s that comfortable.”

Dom’s smile is wicked. He looks Brian dead in the eyes. “How will we know if we don’t try?” Kneeling on the hardwood, he pushes up Brian’s t-shirt and kisses along the trail of exposed skin left in its wake. Brian leans his head back and stares at the ceiling, his breaths loud enough to fill the room.

Brian eventually makes it down there with him. They kiss, slow at first, then at that you-almost-died-but-it-was-hot-as-hell pace. Dom still smells like he’s at the wheel, and it’s intoxicating. And yeah, the floor ends up being pretty uncomfortable, and Brian’s pretty sure he got a splinter in his back. But no one can say they didn’t try.

They clean up lazily, pressing chaste kisses to the skin they can reach between showers. Dom almost stains the white tile with all the black char matted to his skin. Brian gives him hell for it. In retaliation, Dom smacks his ass with a towel, smiling, but they manage to get themselves together enough for Dom to slide on some pants and Brian to throw on one of Dom’s shirts. It's light blue and entirely too big. He loves it. Then again, he’s always loved oversized clothing.

Dom goes to stand on the balcony. A warm saltwater breeze blows in through the open windows, casting the curtains about. Brian is content to watch Dom for a while, trace the hard, strong lines of his body with his eyes. There’s a peacefulness in Dom that he hasn’t seen before, something relaxed and pliant in a man that is usually stubborn and unyielding. His stance is still so rigid, though. He’s always waiting for trouble. Brian chuckles.

“Somethin’ funny?” Even though Dom doesn’t turn around, Brian knows he has an eyebrow raised.

“Nah,” he says through a grin as he walks forward. He puts his hands on his husband’s shoulders and turns him around. Dom cups his chin to kiss the grin off his face and it’s warmer than the sun, and then Dom laughs into that kiss and moves his hands to Brian’s hips. Picking him up like he weighs nothing, he waits for Brian to latch his arms around his neck and wrap his legs around his back before moving them closer to the bed. His knees hit the edge and he falls onto it with Brian still on top of him, and they laugh as they kiss again and again.

Now they move more languorously, breaths mingling, limbs tangling. When Dom speaks, his voice is low, rumbling. Brian can’t wait to hear that voice for the rest of his life. He says as much, feeling foolish after the words have left his mouth, but Dom gives him this soft look and he feels better about it.

It’s not like that earlier look. No, this one is tender and something fiercely _domestic._ And that scares Brian just a little, because he’s always been a man of dangerous pursuits. Of course, Dom flashes that signature crooked Toretto smile and it eases his anxiety. Dom understands him. They ride or die, and they do it together.

“Look at that smile; I love that smile,” Brian murmurs. He pokes the corner of Dom’s mouth.

Dom catches his hand to kiss his palm, reverent and devoted like when he’s working on his Charger. "You make me happy," he tells Brian. Then his other hand finds its way to the back of Brian’s neck and tugs him in so that he lingers, and Brian tastes him like he’s never tasted him before. It’s lime corona and salt and his favorite Cuban coffee. Brian doesn’t think he’ll ever tire of that taste. When they finally part, breathless, Dom catches his eye and frowns slightly. “Hey,” he whispers. “There something on your mind?”

Brian lays his head on the pillow and kind of leans his face into it, knowing he’s been caught. “Yeah, actually,” he finally answers. He’s tracing circles on Dom’s chest with his index finger, but Dom stops him so he’ll speak.

“I gotta know,” he prompts, still holding Brian’s hand. Dom’s tone is gentle, but also firm, leaving no room for lies. He holds Brian’s hand against his chest.

“It’s just, ah…” Now _he_ feels domestic. “I was watching you with those kids today and I was thinking how great a father you’d be.” There, it was out. All he can do is watch Dom’s face and note every change, from the furrowing of his brow to the brightening of his eyes, as he waits for a response.

Dom’s real quiet for a moment before he asks seriously, “Is that what you want?” With his mouth quirked up on the side, Brian can tell that it’s definitely what Dom wants.

It’s more complicated than deciding what they want, though. “I think… I think it’s less of a yes or no and more about why we haven’t even asked the question.” Brian shifts closer to lay his head on Dom’s broad chest. He closes his eyes, breathes, waits for Dom to find the words he wants. Instead of speaking, though, Dom runs his fingers through Brian’s hair. It’s soothing, and it grounds him. It’s a promise to always be here, come hell or high water.

Sleep comes slowly, starting with that overwhelming warmth and gradually fading to black. Brian can't get the idea from his head, and he doesn't think Dom can, either, but they don't talk about it yet. Dom stays up long after his husband, stuck with his thoughts and the hot Havana night, and never takes his eyes off of Brian. And it is the image of Brian asleep in his arms that runs through Dom’s head as Cipher drives away. Her complacency, her audacity; they turn his rage white-hot in a way he hasn’t felt since before Cuba. Since before his fucking _honeymoon_. He wants to chase after her and wipe that smug purse of her lips off her face with his fists.

It is the image of Elena holding his baby boy that stops him.

 


	2. Dos

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for your patience concerning updates! I have many, many essays due soon and write this in my free time. Additionally, thank you all for the wonderful comments so far. They really keep me writing.

Brian wakes up alone, which isn’t any cause for immediate concern. He’s shaken enough of his cop instincts on this trip that he can relax about an empty bed. Dragging himself up, he figures Dom went to go get breakfast--and probably flowers since he’s been feeling so romantic--and goes about fixing himself some coffee. The balcony is his next stop, and he soaks in the breeze and early morning sun as he sips. He’s wearing nothing but Dom’s shirt and boxers, so he’s glad the wind is a gentle one, barely ruffling his hair. With his eyes closed, he can almost picture calling this place home.

Havana’s streets are bursting with energy. A lone but happy guitar plays a cheerful song out of an open window. It smells like saltwater and coffee, sunshine and flowers in full bloom. There’s some construction down the street, but the machines’ creaking and frustrated cars’ honking can’t drown out the chattering voices or squealing children. Unlike LA, there’s no desperation or cacophony to this bustle. There isn’t any urgency or meanness in the way people interact. And sure, Brian misses the thrill of that, sitting right on the precipice of a good fight or a stellar race, but he could get used to this

“Hey, Rapunzel, let down your hair!” Dom barks. He’s wearing white again, that fucker, and the way it browns him makes Brian’s face hot.

Leaning over the railing, Brian smiles sardonically, holding up his middle finger to match.

“Yeah, I love you, too.”

Brian leaves his coffee on the balcony and then turns around while Dom walks inside and climbs the stairs. His heart is still fluttering a little bit; Dom’s probably said it a thousand times now, but an _I love you_ always gives him those damn first-meeting jitters. He swings open the door just as Dom gets to the door, and sure enough, he’s holding a bag with small red flowers peeking out of the top.

“Aw, babe,” Brian jeers. He grabs the back of Dom’s head and plants a kiss on his forehead, giving his husband room to poke his chest. Grunting, Brian pulls away and chuckles.

Dom tries to make his gaze hard. “You disrespect my flowers, you disrespect me, O’Conner,” he says, but the tough face he’s pulling is betrayed by the mirth in his brown eyes. He crowds back into his husband’s space and kisses him like it’s their last morning here.

“Not that I don’t appreciate it,” Brian interjects between kisses, “but, you good?”

Dom turns around to close the door. He walks to the kitchen to put away the groceries, doing his best to act casual. Brian can’t know, that’s for damn sure, and he can’t slip up until it’s necessary. “Can’t a man just be happy to see his husband?” he asks.

Brian bristles. “Fine. Don’t tell me.” As he marches back to the balcony, he can hear Dom sigh. And Brian doesn’t _want_ to be angry at him, but after all these years and all they’ve been through, he can only handle so many secrets. He watches the street again, but now all he can notice are the problems. A child cries on the corner while its mother tells it off in high-pitched, rapid-fire Spanish. The construction is loud, grating against his eardrums. Muttering a few curses, Brian presses his elbows into the railing and hangs his head over it. He’s curled inward, squinting at the too-bright sun and generally feeling miserable, when a hand touches his shoulder.

Dom’s behind him, pressing his fingers into the tense spots in Brian’s back. Brian can’t help but lean into his touch. They end up back-to-chest, Dom with his arms crossed over Brian’s midsection. Dom kisses the back of Brian’s neck and whispers, “Sorry,” into the skin until the sound is gone and all that’s left is the shape of his mouth.

“Whatever’s happening, you know I’ve got your back.”

Brian feels Dom smirk against his neck. “Right now, I think I got yours.”

“Shut up, man. You know what I mean.” Dom’s only answer is a grunt. Brian smiles anyway.

“I’ll tell you about it later, okay?” Brian’s about to protest when Dom hugs him tighter. “‘Cause now I’m gonna make you breakfast, and then we’re gonna work off breakfast.”

That’s too tempting an offer to refuse. Still, “I’m holding you to that,” Brian affirms. It’s not like him to give up so quickly, but it’s _Dom,_ and it’s their honeymoon, so he lets it slide for now.

“I think you’re probably gonna be holdin’ somethin’ else,” Dom quips, and they’re back inside the apartment faster than a ten-second car.

Brian thinks it’s a rather unfair distraction, but he isn’t about to argue. Winning against Dom is difficult--almost impossible, actually--at any time. With his hands all over Brian, that complicates things even more. So he rolls with it. When they kiss, Brian’s so desperate to get closer that he curves into Dom’s body. Dom holds his face between his hands; he’s stepping between his legs, matching that fervent pace. He’s kissing him like he’s losing him.

Sensing Brian’s concern, Dom drops his hands and steps back. Brian, Brian does _not_ whimper, but he’s not entirely sure what to call the sound that comes from the back of his throat when he’s stranded by their bed. “I promised you breakfast,” Dom explains cheekily.

“I thought we were switching the order,” Brian grumbles. He throws himself back on the bed with an exasperated sigh. “S’pose it’s all copa--”

“If you say ‘copacetic,’ I’m gonna burn all your toast.” Dom’s face is serious, but his eyes sparkle mischievously.

“Yeah, just don’t make the eggs dry.”

“You watch it, Buster.”

Damn, Brian’s so in love he can hardly breathe. He’s been in love since day one in that little garage, eating the worst tuna sandwich he’d ever had and catching the solid mass of man that was Dominic Toretto through the office’s wire screen. He can’t believe it took him months to realize what he felt for Dom wasn’t just friendship, or brotherhood, or whatever bullshit he was feeding himself because he was too scared to acknowledge anything else. He can’t believe he needed Mia to _tell_ him that he was in love with Dom. That she knew before he did.

He smiles now as he recalls it. Dom still hunches over the stove the same way he does over a car engine. That day Brian had been leaning against the counter as he watched Dom at 1327’s stove piecing together what food they could scrounge from the fridge; it wasn’t much since they’d been so focused on prepping the cars for Race Wars. But there were eggs, and Brian had been enjoying criticizing Dom for making them too dry.

Brian had also been cracking his neck like crazy. He’d been sleeping on one very uncomfortable couch because they’d all been working so late--too late to hike back to Harry’s, Dom always argued, and set him up with a blanket and an extra toothbrush. He’d drawn the line at borrowing clothes, though. And that’s how he’d ended up with a drawer full of his shit in Dom’s room.

Propping himself up on his elbows, he watches Dom cook for a bit until he can get his thoughts together instead of just grinning like an idiot. “I guess we have Mia to thank for all this, huh?”

Dom chuckles, stabs at some eggs. “What the hell made you think of that?”

Brian blushes. “You were cooking eggs that morning, dude.” Dom eyes him sideways. “I know, I know,” Brian says with a grimace. “Shit, forget it.”

Dom turns and waves the spatula at him, his eyes crinkled around the edges and his lips turned up into a glowing smile. “Nah, of course I remember. You kept cracking your neck and she just walks in and asks why you ain’t sleeping in my bed yet.”

“And I asked her why I couldn’t sleep in hers.” Brian shakes his head at his younger self’s stupidity. After that comment, Mia had ignored him all day. Now that he thinks about it, so had Dom. When he’d gone to apologize to Mia, however, she made it abundantly clear that she wouldn’t be Brian’s way of getting close to Dom, and it had clicked.

“Funny how stupid cops can be,” Dom teases.

Brian shoots back, “Funny how Tanner was right about one thing.”

“Oh yeah?” His eyebrows and voice raise dramatically. “This toast is lookin’ a little black. Still wanna share?”

His fear of messing with Dom has definitely diminished over the years. After they started dating, that fear had become delight. Now Brian couldn’t go a day without pushing his buttons at least once. Through laughter, Brian finally quotes, “‘He’s got a tank of gas for a brain.’” He remembers the complete disdain he had for Tanner at that moment; now it’s just a way to hassle his husband.

“That’s messed up.”

But Brian can see it doesn’t really bother him. The toast is perfectly crisp--the eggs look good, too--and Dom’s smile just keeps widening. He carefully moves all the food to the plates and sets the table; the flowers go in a vase in the middle. There’s orange juice and more coffee, and Dom’s pulling out a chair for him, and _fuck,_ Brian never thought he’d be this lucky. He wants to say as much, but that seems a little too sappy, even for him. “What are you, Prince Charming?” Brian asks as he sits.

“Somethin’ like that.” Dom kisses Brian’s forehead before he takes his own seat. Brian bows his head while Dom says grace, and then they dig in.

They’ve been trading off who makes meals most days, but Brian will definitely admit that Dom’s a better cook. Whenever he makes any traditional dish he’ll always teach Brian how to make it, and it’s usually accompanied by a story about how Mrs. Toretto taught him and Mia everything they know. Brian--and he always insists he’s trying, really--for the life of him can barely retain so much as a recipe in his head. His first attempt at making _mangú_ ended disastrously. Well, unless he counted the way he made it up to Dom. That was far from a disaster.

Halfway through breakfast, Dom stops and smiles at Brian.

“What?”

“Why don’t you go down and help _mi primo_ figure out the Impala today? Kid’s been runnin’ a monster all his life, needs to know how to treat a real lady.”

“Are you trying to get rid of me?” Brian asks, but his voice is fond and agreeable. “Hell, Dom, of course I will.” As if he’d pass up a chance to get a little engine grease on his hands. Seeing Dom race yesterday had him itching to get in a car himself. For now, this was close enough. “What are you up to?” It’s curiosity, not suspicion, that leads the question.

“You’ll find out when you get home.”’

The suspicion comes then, but Brian forces it down, chiding himself for the distrust. This was his honeymoon, his husband. If he was going to be suspicious of anything, it should be that Dom might buy him another car. “Yeah, okay,” he concedes, and Dom seems relieved. Brian stabs his fork in the air at him. “But I want my after-breakfast workout first.”

Dom is more than happy to oblige.

Brian leaves after he’s showered and dressed, bursting with excitement over the job. He’s already talking about the upgrades they can give the Impala, how fast she could run, when Dom ushers him out the door. They kiss, adoring, chaste. Dom wants to linger but knows it will only cause more questions. And Brian’s not clingy, so when he tells him to have fun, he’s taking the stairs down to the street without even looking back. Dom’s stomach sinks as he watches Brian become a tiny speck in the Havana street.

As he sits he pulls out the phone given to him by Cipher. There’s so passcode, only a black screen to double tap that opens immediately to a picture of Elena and her--his, their--baby. Dom sets a password. He tries not to think about how the password on his own phone is the day he and Brian met. It’s stupid and cheesy, and also a set of numbers no one has ever been able to guess.

An hour after Dom sets to work on the phone, he gets a call on his own cell. His heart sinks as he reads the caller ID and pulls it to his ear. Hobbs is short and pointed; he needs the team, and he needs a goddamn EMP. Dom almost laughs when he realizes how perfectly Cipher’s planned this. When he promises he and Brian will be in Berlin, it feels like a death sentence.


	3. Tres

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay! Thank you for still reading this, if you are. <3

When Tej had told Brian he would be bringing a crane to a car fight, Brian hadn’t really believed him. But he kept it under wraps just to mess with Roman. He never actually expected for Tej to gleefully call, “Phase two!” and drop a wrecking ball into the fray like a little kid discovering how much damage his feet can do to a stack of blocks.

Brian hollers in pure joy, wishing he could roll down the windows of this blue beauty and feel the wind on his face. The adrenaline hits him hard and fast like nitro in his veins. Now he’s just riding that wave.

He feels and sees the team moving around him in perfect synchronicity. Well, almost perfect; Roman’s mirror’s been knocked off because the guy’s mouth moves faster than his brain and hands. They’re all laughing and mocking his old friend. Hobbs is saying something creative about Germans and their sausages, Brian thinks, but he’s too focused on Dom to know for sure.

Even though he flashes his Arizona smile, the one he knows gets Dom riled in all the right ways, Dom is stone-faced and hard-eyed. That’s no problem at first--Dom can get wrapped up in a mission and save the fun for later--but there’s no hint of happiness, no crook of his lip. Nothing. Brian’s heart seizes in his chest. Cold fear drowns the adrenaline-fueled heat in an instant. “You good?” Brian asks. His heart thumps louder than Hobbs’ tank of a truck.

“I’ll see you when it’s done,” Dom answers, completely level.

They break off before Brian can think of what to say. Dom’s made up his mind about something hard. The problem is that Brian doesn’t know what that something is, and he’s scared, and he feels like he’s choking on that fear when Dom and Hobbs veer off together.

Letty’s car pulls into place beside him. “You look a little freaked out,” she comments through the comm.

Brian doesn’t want to worry her yet, so he just shrugs. “Worried husband stuff, nothing new.” He gives a shaky, unconvincing laugh. With the way Letty’s side-eyeing him, he knows he doesn’t have her convinced, but he wants to stall while his mind is trying to figure out what he read on Dom’s face.

There’s radio silence for awhile, which stresses Brian out. He needs constant noise and constant activity or he gets jittery. And damn is he jittery. He’s almost afraid he’ll fuck up the shift with how bad his hand is trembling. _There’s nothing wrong,_ he repeats to himself, but he didn’t spend years training to be cop to ignore these kind of warning bells.

Then there’s static as if the team can read his mind. They’ve all been together long enough that Brian’s confident they can, in a way. And he’s so ready for some dumbass comment from Roman, or anything reassuring from Letty. Instead what he gets is Hobbs’ gravelly, “Son of a bitch just crossed us.”

“What?” Brian says, followed by an array of disbelieving questions and curses from his teammates. Yet when Hobbs explains how Dom took the EMP, Brian knows it’s true. He remembers those eyes, dark and dangerous. The yawning pit in his stomach grows wider with each second until he feels like one big black hole has swallowed him up from the inside. Brian thinks it the same moment that Hobbs says it.

_Dominic Toretto just went rogue._

Not even Letty talks to him when they’re back in the garage. He’s fuming and falling apart all at once. The gold band on his ring finger is too tight, but his brain is too loose, like he’s missing some piece, or every piece, of this fucked up puzzle. He wants to throw a chair when he opens the glove compartment to stare at photos of him and Dom. There’s one in front of a skyline in LA taken just last year, Dom with that cheesy grin on his face and his arms wrapped fiercely around his fiance. Then there’s one with them inside their wedding car--Dom’s impala trussed up in bows and shit, courtesy of one very amused Mia--with collared shirts and nice jeans, because neither felt comfortable in a suit.

Brian wants to run after Dom’s car until his feet bleed and knock the teeth out of whoever’s got Dom doing this. Instead he just sits in his car and fights back tears. The only reason he doesn’t feel completely useless is because Letty looks just about as broken as he does, sitting on the step and picking at the frays on her shorts. Everyone else is talking game plans and cell phone hacks. Brian can’t believe they’re doing it like Dom is the fucking enemy.

Letty takes first offense, body rigid as she approaches Ramsay. She looks back at Brian before she tells the hacker not to judge Dom, throwing his heroism right in her face. Brian clenches his fists and nods to her when she leaves, but gnawing apprehension remains. Hobbs knew that look and Brian knows every look Dom makes. They’re pretty unmistakable.

“Whatchu gonna do, email her?” Roman asks when Ramsay doesn’t get too bent up about it.

“Oh shut up, Roman!” Brian shouts. He’s out of his car immediately, slamming the door closed. Roman flinches. Brian gets in his oldest friend’s face, and growls, “This isn’t a game for some of us, okay?”

“Shit, Bri, it ain’t for me--”

“Really? ‘Cause from over here it looks like you’re using this situation to get yourself a girl. Or am I wrong?”

Roman looks like he might argue. His eyes have that wild look like they always do when he gets accused of something that sucks but is still true. But then he softens and reaches his hand out to grab the back of Brian’s neck. He pulls him forward until his head’s on his shoulder and he can awkwardly pat his golden hair.

“You know me, Bri,” Roman says, “I can’t do all this sad shit. But I got you if you need me.”

Brian shoves him away and sniffs, trying not to look too obvious with the water welling up his eyes. “I’m gonna go talk to Letty,” he manages to tell them. Tej stops Roman from protesting with a hand on his chest. Brian leaves them bickering about Tej getting in the way.

He doesn’t find Letty. He barely makes it to another room before he slips down the wall, sneakers slipping and squeaking. His wedding ring throbs as he knocks his knuckles against the linoleum floor and lets the tears fall. Shaking, he wraps his arms around himself and closes his eyes, pretending those are Dom’s arms holding him steady. No matter how hard he tries, though, he still feels his absence like a bullet in his ribcage. He doesn’t know why Dom’s gone, and that hurts even more than when he was the reason Dom left. Brian lets his head fall back on the wall with a dull thud. Someone’s got to have Dom on a leash, that’s certain, because this wasn’t him. Dom puts family first, and even dropped the last couple weeks of their honeymoon to help out Hobbs when he asked. Brian can’t put this together in any way that makes sense.

And he doesn’t have time to put anything together when an unmarked special ops team descends on the garage, taking them all by surprise. Brian’s fighting dirty, but he’s running on an empty tank, and he’s in handcuffs embarrassingly fast. His only comfort as they lead him away is that he might be heading to the same place Dom is stuck.

 

 


	4. Cuatro

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disfrute, mis amigos!

Brian knows right away that Dom isn’t here. Once the blindfolds come off and he adjusts to the harsh fluorescent lights, he knows this is one of those off-the-books places, and he’s got a pretty good idea of who it belongs to.

He’s pissed when some junior agent, with his perfect posture and slimy smirk, sits them all at a table and tells them to shut up. Junior leaves the cuffs on. Brian and Letty set to work on them right away. Everyone else stays quiet. It’s not a compliant silence, though; Brian can feel the defiance and hatred in their eyes and shoulders. Brian’s been on this side of the table enough times now to square his posture and stare Junior down with the same cool amusement.

Roman is angry enough that all he can do is pout for the first hour. Obviously that doesn’t last long; too soon he’s antsy and obnoxious as ever. “Who the hell is this, Brian, your long-lost twin sister?” he asks, and points to Junior.

Brain will admit to being a little ruffled about how similar they look. He’s happy he grew his hair out again or they’d have the same haircut, and he’s uncomfortable enough already. “Shut up,” he mumbles. Roman sticks out his tongue, satisfied.

Out of his cuffs right after Letty, Brian holds them together to stop them from clinking. He could take Junior out easily, but he has no idea what the security looks like in this place and isn’t willing to risk his team in some crazy Hail Mary. So he waits. He waits, and it sucks, because Roman isn’t doing anything to improve their situation.

“Whats up Blondie; can a brotha get some grub in here or what?”

“Rome,” Brian warns.

Roman _tsk_ s at Brian before returning his attention to an increasingly frustrated federal agent. “Maybe just a juice box. Gonna need ya to pop that straw in for me, though. Think you can handle that?”

“ _Rome,_ ” Brian repeats, and his friend gets the hint this time. Roman pulls a face and sneers at Junior, but he sits back and shuts up, and that’s all Brian needs. He exhales and catches Tej’s eye, who nods like he’ll keep an eye on Roman from now on. Brian appreciates that, because his mind is going 200 MPH and won’t be slowing down anytime soon. Brian feels as conflicted as he did the day he let Dom get away. Every bit of him had trusted Dom then just as every bit of him trusts him now, but there’s this tiny voice that sounds a lot like Cop Brian telling him that Dom is fully capable of making this mess. That he’s gone rogue before.

After another three hours, Brian’s stomach is growling and he wants some answers. As he moves to drop the handcuffs, he spies Hobbs and Mr. Nobody opening the heavy glass door. Mr. Nobody is laughing and addressing the team when he notices the handcuffs. Stopping dead, he gives Junior the look of a highly disgruntled parent and scolds him in front of them all. Brian can’t bring himself to smile just yet, but he’s glad Roman can find enjoyment in Junior’s misery.

Brian and Letty throw their cuffs on the table. She asks Mr. Nobody, “This is how you treat old friends?” and right away Tej jumps in with plenty of doubts about the friend bit.

Brian watches Mr. Nobody’s face. The guy knows something about Dom, he just has to. Brian would sit for four _days_ to get that information out of him right now. Mr. Nobody seems to realize that and starts to explain before Roman cuts him off to gripe about food. Brian is tense and silent--although a little proud to know he’s made number four on Interpol’s list--as he waits for them to stop butting heads and get to the part that’ll put Dom back by his side.

Some woman named Cipher comes into play when they’re done. Brian’s trying to keep up, but all he hears is hacker lingo and no mention of his husband. “This is all really interesting,” he finally interrupts, “but what the hell does it have to do with us?” He’ll flip out if Mr. Nobody wants them to track down this Cipher in exchange for information about Dom. Letty hums as if she’s thinking the same thing when he glances at her.

And then Dom’s face is on the screen and Brian’s heart flips and the world goes still for a moment. Brian shifts his weight and tries to breathe. When he looks to Hobbs, all the other man can do is throw open his hands. The blood is rushing in Brian’s ears like the ocean as Nobody tells them he wants them to do the impossible: track Dom down and take out Cipher. He’s willing to do it alright, willing to throw himself in the line of fire and come out burnt to hell just for Dom, but the team’s got reservations and they need somebody to convince them otherwise.

Of course, bringing Deckard Shaw in has the complete opposite effect.

Hobbs is out of his seat first, and then Brian, and he hasn’t been able to hit someone yet, and decides this is where he’s going to start. The objections fire off, but Nobody is standing between Brian and Shaw. Then Hobbs is there, and Brian sits his ass back down and away from the chaos that is likely to follow. Actually, Hobbs and Shaw’s showdown reminds him a lot of his first meeting with Dom, but he keeps that to himself for now.

It makes sense, teaming up. Shaw is a valuable asset whether Brian likes it or not. And he doesn’t like it one bit. Deckard had tried to break Dom with a car, about every type of gun he could get, and his hands; his little brother had tried to throw Mia out of a plane, and the pretentious attitudes they both copped remind Brian of rather unwelcome days at the police academy and lofty superiors. If it’s their best shot at Dom, though, hell, Brian will take that wherever he can get it.

The meeting finishes with Roman’s admittedly good idea. Brian pats him on the back--his eyes apologize for earlier, and Roman’s forgive--as they make their way to the mainframe where God’s Eye is embedded. Ramsay strokes the keys like she would a lover, and Brian doesn’t miss the way Tej watches her fingers. He shoots Tej a flashy white smile and Tej blushes.

The color in Tej’s face reminds Brian of when he and Dom finally came out to the team in Rio de Janeiro. It was the morning after Dom had proposed; although their first kiss had been before Brian betrayed him in LA, and they’d reignited that flame after Dom got over hating Brian, it had taken a long time for Dom to ask the big question. He smiles sadly thinking of it now, of the fucking champagne and how he’d been wearing a baggy t-shirt and jeans as Dom got down on one knee. If being quiet had been difficult before with the thin walls, it was torture that night when all Brian wanted to do was scream Dom’s name into the stars.

He’d settled on screaming into the pillow.

Now his face is about the same color as Tej’s. He coughs, goes to pace away from everybody else. They give him his distance because they’re not really sure what to do with him yet. Letty’s the only one who’s ever loved Dom like Brian does, but she’s messed up enough about this without him unloading on her, and he’s sure as shit not going to call Mia.

Brian hangs his head in his hands and lets himself get lost in the happy memories while they ping locations. Mr. Nobody eventually gives them the bad news, but Brian’s half tuning it out so he can focus on the good times. One particular memory floats to the surface and he catches it like a lifeline.

“About time,” Tej had began, sipping his beer and offering one to Brian after Brian had shown off the gold ring he hasn’t taken off since. Brian had taken the Corona, let the alcohol calm any leftover nerves with an emphatic, “Hell yeah.”

Then, “So,” Tej had said, and Brian had known what he was about to ask by just the grin on his face. He’d bounced on his heels and bunched his shoulders in, stretching his arm like he was about to feel Brian up when he’d asked, “Did he tap that ass, or did he—grab it.” Tej had sort of choked on the last part of it, voice getting high and small. His eyes had stared right over Brian’s shoulder to the doorway.

Brian hadn’t needed to turn around to know that Dom was there. He had felt the heat coming off his body; Dom had almost been touching Brian, arms crossed over his broad chest. Brian had smirked before replying, “Oh, he grabbed it. Right, babe?”

Tej had made mockingly disgusted noises before calling the rest of the team in to hear the news. Mia’d been pissed because she would have bought an engagement gift and thrown a party. Han and Gisele had stolen quick glances; Brian would have given anything to see Han propose right then and there. Letty’s first words after hearing had been, “I better be your Best Man, Dom. Brian can have Mia as Maid of Honor.”

And Roman, Roman had come around eventually. It had been a lot of misunderstandings, a lot of confusion following Roman’s stint in Juvie and a hard upbringing that had left him unsettled. The fact that Brian hadn’t shared that part of his life with his oldest friend had also been a hard blow at the time. After a couple days of questions and shouting matches, they were cool. When Roman had started saying things like, “So how come you never tried to get with me, huh? I’m one fine piece of ass,” Brian had known they’d made it through.

Brian remembers Roman’s hug this morning with fondness. He can’t imagine not having him by his side now, even if he is being a complete ass about coming up with the God’s Eye plan. Despite it not working, he still hoards the credit in typical Roman fashion as the dynamic Tej-and-Ramsay duo work backwards. Brian’s stomach is clenching fiercely each time one city drops off the grid. Every picture of Dom makes him feel like he could reach out and touch him, pull him back where he belongs.

His blood runs cold a second before Mr. Nobody’s face changes. There’s complete disbelief there, and Brian is following the shift with a sinking realization of what’s about to happen. Then the concrete explodes and glass shatters around him like he’d smashed it with a sledgehammer. He’s thrown into the air before landing hard enough that he gets the wind knocked out of him. Unable to speak, he only watches as concussion grenades roll through the smoke and detonate.

The effect is instant. Brian’s had concussions before, but this is a concussion multiplied. He feels sluggish, sick to his stomach. There’s a ringing in his ears and a buzzing underneath it, and his ribs ache where he landed on them. Everything is blurry when he’s finally able to open his eyes. And even with his sight restored, it hurts to concentrate on the feet crunching through broken glass. He coughs and clutches at his side, missing the days when his standard issue firearm had rested comfortably on his hip.

Cipher’s voice is as complacent as he’d imagined. She talks loudly on purpose just to hurt them. When she speaks, she’s all ice and bitter syrup, her eyes flicking coldly between the team members and her mouth spilling easy lies. Brian’s doing his best to fight against the pain and stand until he sees Dom. That hits Brian harder than any high-tech next-gen explosion could; he doubles over like someone’s just stuck a knife into his abdomen and gutted him. Dom shoots four rounds into the only remaining wall and it rains shards, and Brian’s doing his best not to throw up.

Brian rolls over so he can look at his husband. He barely recognizes him. That warm smile is gone, replaced by something hard and emotionless. Brian would have preferred Dom looking at him like he’s the enemy--like he’d done years before, with that fury, that righteousness, that signature Toretto rage--rather than suffer this apathy. And maybe when Brian finally meets Dom’s eyes, he tilts his head with regret and longing, but Brian can’t tell, not when everything's a blur.

“Let’s go.”

Miraculously Brian finds some modicum of energy that allows him to balance on his elbow and shout, “Dom!” The volume of his own voice makes him nauseous. But he persists when Dom turns to look at him. A couple of feet away, Letty is stirring. Her eyes burn with the same question that drags its way past Brian’s lips. “You’re gonna turn your back on family, just like that?” It’s a low blow, one to shake Dom’s pride and honor, but it’s his best option.

Cipher backtracks to stare straight through Brian. She makes his skin crawl when her eyes are on him, and she makes his blood boil when her eyes are on Dom. Brian scowls at her for good measure, and that seems to encourage her as she steps closer to Dom. “Don’t,” Brian threatens, and she chuckles. Her hand grips his neck like a vice.

Cipher’s lips press against Dom’s and Brain feels like he’s been thrown off a freight train. Not in the exhilarating way where there’s a car or Dom’s arms to catch him, but the terrified realization that he’s about to hit pavement and there’s shit he can do about it. Brian tries to breathe evenly but fails. He wants to scream when his body won’t respond to the commands he gives it. Cipher seems to know that with the way she smirks at Brian before slowly, sensually whispering to Dom, “ _Let’s go._ ”

This time, Dom complies.

**Author's Note:**

> The title comes from the Shakira and Maluma song "El Chantaje," which means "The Blackmail" in English.


End file.
